The Labyrinth
by Foxes' Dreams
Summary: "The truth is out there and it's exclusively my mission to discover it!" But in the society hypnotized by misery, who can you trust? The same theory applies to the wandering Emma Swan until she meets the enigmatic Killian Jones and start a dangerous game with the passionate desire and the fires of the past hell. CS Modern AU (ON HIATUS)
1. Chapter 1 - Preview

**Chapter One - Preview**

 **Author's Note:** I dedicate this story to my best friend who encouraged me every second to work out my talent. This is only for you, dear!

 _Life is riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving - Albert Einstein_

Here she is, here she lives, here she will find her end. She confronts, in absolutely every day of her life, the endless influences, happily shared by society, supplied by the anger and the strength of the submissive. All she needs is a miniscule drop of escapade in order to open her eyes and to see the abstract from normal, the light from the end of a tunnel and also the sincerity which is hidden by a thick cloak, provided with a waterproof layer of imposed superficiality.

Reality slapped her once in a moment of vulnerability. She will be always grateful for that gesture. Everyone is fated to suffer, even if the reasons aren't forceful enough for the sentencing to be final. But, people always see optimism. If your heart is broken, it means it still works. The power to surpass our condition appears from nowhere, it raises us up to the final point, but it withdraws its divine, delicate, light like a feather touch in the moment we are capable to take flight on our own, to get out from the unknown. Despite the fact that we are leaving with the soul open towards a world in which the disappointments are in first place, and not even a trace of remorse appears when you fight with ardor to counter the people's complex mentality who in the second day already got out of your horizon contoured by the expectations that nobody considers dame.

Liberty is the experience which has maximum intensity; it gives one last boost to the apogee, a deep ideology to defend our limits. Absolutely everyone needs a high as sky departure, a far-away isolated trip from the normal world, properly hidden from the merciless eyes of the watchers. She, with her own hands, opens the door to find a magical corner which even if she doesn't imagine, her heart's keeping the decryption secret of judging after a brief moment of analyzing. People will tell her the whole life who she is, but she'll always answer them with this quote:" No, this is who I am", because behind the thick wall which surrenders her body lies a dreamer, a creator, a revolutionar, but not in the end a person. A kind of person who after long experiences, decided that everything will be browsed from the first minute to the last. With the last drop of energy and also tear, she looks at life from a different angle, full of positive emotions and she knows that she has the wish to show what a complex personality she keeps under her sleeve.

Even if she finds the motivation to rebuild her body, a single little thing is repeating with an ironic musicality in her mind:"why?". In the most important day of her life, she received a hard punch from the subconscious. Everything made sense in that moment, but she was denying with firmness the belief in that ghost. Reality was begging her different. She won't even remind the fact that the fear was flooding her body, she was feeling that she doesn't belong there and despite the fact that she was fighting with the eyes wide-shut, sending silent signals that were fading in their way. This is life, but it goes on, no matter at what trials we are subjected to.

Now, in the final stage, she realized that she has been a lover, a fighter with limitless powers, in order to see that somewhere still lays the paradise, too.

Nothing lasts forever, and so is her experience which is surrounded by intense sensation –indescribable in words- has got to the dead point. With the hand on her

heart and ready for a possible sacrifice, she wanted to spend another instant immersed in undreamed memories, printed with cold ink on the skull, an invisible gift with irreversible meaning, fully set to an end which is showing its face in the last hour, a face that gave hope to an issue that is really smiling.

This is how Emma Swan's story starts, the first time when she had the chance to take the gamble and see what's out in whole wide world, waiting for her.

 **Author's Note** : A little philosophical, huh? Well, the action starts in the next chapter, and just to clarify this will totally be an adventure and romance rated fic. Read and Review? :*


	2. Chapter 2 - Lila

Chapter 2 – Lila

"Like trying to keep a fatman out of the refrigerator. Lila" – Robert M. Pirsig

A lot of people aspire to an ideal, but there are a few who take the jump of courage and reach the moment in which they need to duel with the obstacles that put them to the test in mysterious ways almost all the inherited, equipped or acquired virtues and strategies. She has always hated the clichés. Everyone states that they're living their life in pink that they're happy and they don't need anything else. She, on the other side, considers that her life totally respects the palette of purple. Presenting a volcanic character, vulnerable in the same time, she finds the power to model her mentality according to the circumstances. The same fact is applied to the lila. It passes from a peaceful, delicate shade to a flashy one, filled with strength and capability to express itself. To get to the carefully planned point, she affirms that my name is Emma, but everyone calls her Swan, making a parallel to her original strategy to camouflage, to get out from limit situations, that wait for us at absolutely every corner of street, armed with a lethal dose of temptations. There are a lot of things that need to be said about her. Actions speak louder than words. In order to make an impression about her body, long deprived of any punch, she can say that is fragile, able to break in a moment. She looks a bit like an albino, her hair being trapped in the same pale spell, flooding in fuller, asymmetric waves. The eyes, which betrayed thoughts more than enough times than necessary, are two sapphires, implanted with the help of holy individual and the stately force of genetics.

The past, on the other side doesn't seem to be so spotless and carefully arranged like the exterior layer, which is involuntary hypocrite, creating the image of a fighter. She wishes to be one. It's hard for her to confess and without any grain of exaggeration she states that she has never been loved. Life offered her enough times to prove this, maybe too many, or it takes the place of a workout for the still undiscovered, urban society, which is popularized worldwide. Let's start with the beginning. From her first moment of life, she wasn't wanted, and with the help of a guardian angel, she was brought and included in the "foster care" system. Five years after this bitter experience, she had the chance to get into a loving family who offered her an education, a roof above her head and also the parental love that had always missed. And here she is, at the beautiful age of eighteen, "free like a bird of heaven".

Her parents suddenly decided to move in Japan for an architectural project. Meanwhile, she froze her year between high school and college. So, she spends almost all her time being trapped in the curse of loneliness, which seems not to have an annihilation elixir.

But, everything can change in the moment in which your ideologies reach the apogee and with a slight trace of regret, we take the gamble and start walking in the direction of the unknown, endowed with multiple trials.

To resume in one word, the day light proves to be a good counselor, so in the morning that is bathing in a pool of dares pushed until they reached our faces, she discovered that she doesn't know from where appears a chance to achieve her dream, covered by the mists of fear, who defend the intellect from a possible fail. So, getting out of bed, with a heavy grace, exactly the opposite of a swan, she's going to welcome a new day, full of the adrenaline of the unknown from the dawn. Walking with pressed steps, filled with cumulated laziness, she's heading to the kitchen, which is decorated only with stainless steel, just to find a lonely serenity and also a ticket which is incapable to replace a person. The ticket was announcing her parents' return in the country of earthquakes for a full year, driven by the prominent smell of a financial reward which seemed like a considerable one. How she was expecting, she found herself completely isolated in the grand residence, which wasn't beating a flat, bathed by caldrons of happiness. The time was passing rapidly, leaving the exterior and also the interior peace under covered. Dwelled in a fluffy and warm cocoon of a blanket, she was watching a movie chosen without any serious reasons, which reached the point to make her nauseous from the unreal actions, inappropriately placed. Something she only witnessed was a deeply monologue which had captured her attention.

On the background, it was heard the TV which was standing turned on the"at your disposal" news, that were announcing a new, horrible murder, like this event will bring the excitement in our lives. That information was completely ignored by her look, while being focused on the final lines of this masterpiece of mediocrity. In the moment before the screen went black, the protagonist affirmed wholeheartedly:"We don't give up on things we love". She felt moved; it triggered a new billow of pressure in her body, having the form of a forgotten thought, too rampant to be shared. It looked like the cornerstone of an uncertain future, similar to an instantaneous illusion, a moment that demands to be felt, counselor of the trust that she can reach that "somewhere". At the silent command of the destiny, her look, already deceived by the quotes that were repeated mechanically by the mind of the director, changed its trajectory, catching in its orders, fixed with an absolute wonderful view, somehow foreignly placed.

With a pressed voice, a tenor one, it was announced the information –somehow common- that every lover of adventure, liberty and fun is turning his attention to the famous city, Boston. The announcement was becoming gradually a unique chance, a portal to a blind experience with favorable consequences. It was a memorable moment for her ideology. It was way too attractive to be ignored. So, in a blink of an eye, charged with multiple questions and a lot more numerous reasons, she found the power to get rid of any trace of insecurity and with a noisy whir she left behind her carefully-built nest.

Accompanied by a rustling speed, she climbed the slippery stairs, thundered in her room, which was decorated in a floral vintage style and which she was proclaiming to be hers. She was looking desperately for her spacious bag, which in its good days was used to proudly carry the chalk that she needed for her athletic classes. Discovering and grabbing it violently, she put it on her bed and she prepared it, structural talking, for the avalanche of clothes. Taking the bathroom's way and turning with her slim arms full of products, she was feeling her heart in the back of her neck, pumping deafening oxygen and feeling with its unmistakable intensity my vocal cords, despite the fact that they were now weakened by the adrenaline. With a sick appetite powered by the fierce desire to surpass her condition, completely inversely with her medium stature, she started rummaging in the tall closets, made from cherry wood which was gently touching the ceiling, carefully decorated with a pale shade, similarly to the color of the buds of Hyacinths. Without caring of any damage, she packed her favorite articles, which were numerous and were fighting to find a comfortable position in the bag provided with ridiculous dimensions. Completed by an almost empty make-up kit, and a lot of books, really close to her heart, she perfected the masterpiece of the first step. Just by taking a thicker cloak from the peg, she got out from the stately residence, contoured by sweet memories, defined by reflective inclusions, properly-said her second chance. Without looking back, she stepped in a whole new world, still hidden for her complex feelings, aggressively chipped by the past, by the life lessons. You need a moment to make a decision and then another ten to realize the possible negative effects. Even after a time that looked like an eternity, she remained neutral. A single thing was certain: she was doing the right thing.

By taking her heart in her teeth, Emma got into the closest taxi she could've found and she asked for a ride to the airport. The backseat of the taxi was pretty old, patched with silk of complementary color of the principal background. It smelt like wear, it was reminding her of the old days of her first years, being changed from one family to another like a piece of furniture. Those years were deeply dark, a complete blackness, offering a realistic definition about life, full of brackets and additional explanations. With an unbearable pressure and a loudly wrestle, she got out of the bent car and she headed inside to realize with astonishment that the fate was smiling. She caught the last place in a flight to Boston. She wasn't completely aware that the crime of her parents 'strict ideology which was committed, started to give her chills. The flame of her wish lighted every cell of her body, suppressing the fear which was induced willingly in her character.

There was no way to exit and she didn't want to be. Emma was experiencing for the first time an unsure land, contoured by the unknown which was whispering sweet promises in her tiny ears.

 **Author's Note** : Thanks to my best friend who read my dedication. You made me cry! Literally!

Well, only a few left until he'll meet the Boston hottie.

Read and Review? :*


	3. Chapter 3 - Weapons

Chapter 3 – Weapons

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed." – Dwight D. Eisenhower

To take your flight, you need an effort, but to maintain yourself at a certain height, you need an irrepressible strength, capable to contract your wings in a moment of supreme pain.

Here she is, on the peak of a possible success, trying to make herself comfortable to the limited conditions of a low-cost flight. She was watching the movie which was projected on a minuscule screen in the frontal side of the moving device which was functioning only in the air way. Maybe because of the low signal, the images or the scenes, or however you want to call them, were moving jerky, provoking virulently criticized giggles in her back, which was tense, due to the situation and also to the overwhelming emotions of a new start. Instead, it aroused her oppressive disgust. She thought that the aircraft that was rising like the Phoenix bird to the heaven had high standards of quality. Nothing goes as planned, but she wasn't even thinking about letting this little snag ruin my trip.

By taking a tacit decision, she agreed to let herself prey to the spell of the thick darkness that's related to the sleep, her imagination gamboling on undiscovered fields, applied in the close future.

In order to skip over the sarcastically long-built introduction, she could say that after roughly an"age" in the trap of the invention that belonged to 21st century, she reached the paradise, which was created by her own imagination and to be specific, the magical, pure-American corner that is also called Boston, the metropolis of the whispered dreams, never brought to life. With the fatigue pulsing on her shoulders that were still in the early stages of the development, she stepped on the ice-cold marble, and with a knot in her stomach which was emphasizing my fear sensation, she headed with quick steps to the entrance, miming a plot of an action movie. Her life was depending on this step, Emma was deciding for her, without bumping into the hard words of the skeptics. Unlike the departure, her courage was fading quickly, especially now when she was in the warm, almost dry, semi-dessert breeze of the state of Massachusetts. She believed that the arrival in this place will be a happy one, an almost euphoric one, but in change she was standing completely numb, staring at the exterior, which at first sight seemed to be a normal, boring park, but it was the faithful guardian that was hiding the sublime. Even the nature was reflecting her growing state in which she was dipping, in the same time with the seconds that were passing rapidly without turning their metaphoric heads to study her facial expression, always changeable. She remained disoriented, trying to avoid the look of the passers-by who were desperately trying to be helpful. Emma moved from the initial place –for the first time- walking less or more on autopilot. She was scouring upside down the streets, without realizing that everything around her is desolated, a valuable clue in order to decipher the next events. Probably her mind and also her vision were playing tricks on her, the essential gas, necessary for the normal living were restrained with bestiality in the central point of interest, which was the shoulder that was screaming in pain, generated by the weight of the clothes that were an insignificant detail in this non-conformist landscape.

The peaceful game and also the monumental silence, really hard to be found these days, were broken without a little piece of pity by the quick steps which determinate her body to experience a short round of weak seizures. It was the mental signal sent by the unconscious in order to take attitude in that moment. With a trace of remorse, and also of fear, she turned her look only for regretting it afterwards. The new, formed vision made her jump horrendously. With her eyes wide-open, just to be sure that this scene wasn't an illusion triggered by the fire sword of the sun, she tried to free the road, to let the tracking take its way and also to observe the driving picture, spun off the unknown. A charming boy, with an attentively-sculptured body, shadowed by the oversized T-shirt which was fighting with the hard breathing and the overflowing adrenaline in the blood, and also with the attackers' presence that looked like they were trained thoroughly for an armed assault at every hour of day and night. My reflexes were fiercely slowed down; every trace of defense will was destroyed.

"You'd better run if you had something valorous in that bag!" he announced her on a serious tone, giving her an instinctive impulse to defend her back.

Taking a considerable advantage, he reached a minimal distance of a couple centimetres, he grabbed her arm with an uncharacteristic force for a teenager, as she was supposing. In the new-composed chaos, Emma had the chance to make the difference between the crucial marks of his personality, just studying the powerful grip of his forearm; she was taking hold of in this situation with full desire. The danger was welling progressively, ascertained fact just from the short looks thrown occasionally over her shoulder. From the fact that her inferior members were recovering their initial strength, she could better analyze the person who looked in that moment like my new guardian angel. With a smut-dark hair, specifically arranged in the style of the movies from the old time of the black and white, cram-full of the acrid smell of his cologne which sort of resembled with the fir, he looked quite odd. The typical portrait of the convinced English, completely native, was also helped by the pronounced accent and by the gestures which were similar to the ones of the English type, maybe the noble race. Emma was hardly concentrating at the rocky, bumpy road, totally specifically for an insecure neighborhood. She was starting to feel a slight sensation of suffocation in the moment in which she was put in the position of an eyewitness who saw the roundup from a block of flats that was presenting an extreme little size, with scribbled walls, which was sitting in state the stuffiness of dust, unsupportable considering the intensity. Opening the door with a partial-squeak sound, she entered a mystical land, totally strange for the introvert person like my own person. With her hands clenched on her body, absolutely all my nails pushed deep-down, ready to leave a scar, Emma had experienced a sensation that she had already felt. Standing in the dusty doorstep, she was thinking that her emotion wasn't a confusing one, only an embarrassing one, because four pairs of eyes were checking her out from head to toe, resting aligned, symmetrically, exactly like the members of a war cohort. But, as expected, the tranquility was clogging our existence; none of the figures were exerting their facial muscles or the vocal cords into functioning. Everything was becoming solid, the seconds were leaking indistinguishable, all the things had an interesting dominance: they were quiet and simple like the sky in a summer night.

"It looks like Neal isn't stopping his stupid game!" said the English guy, who despite the fact that was covered by the shadow of a curtain, made it tremble just by speaking with intense voice.

"This happened just because you're walking with the money flying out of your pockets on the empty streets, abandoned by the people, but also locked for the instinctive," affirmed on a cutting tone, the first mate from the line which already curved to the left.

Possessing an alarming-high tone for a short stature, the little blonde with creole skin perfectly calibrated and chromatic, and also with arms without a little meat on them, adapted a defending position which was exhaling in its own only power. Despite wearing an all-black outfit, deprived of originality and personality, Emma could decode her apparently confusion and she wasn't showing it in a subtle way. The whole situation was full of tension, an almost-finished delirium.

"The circumstances are fleeting, what matters is that you escaped with your head on the shoulders," clogged on a comic tuning in the conversation, that was ready to delight our looks with imaginary sparks, the boy located at the row of the detail-eaters eagles.

Probably this is the best moment to insert the quote:"Who is the same gathers around".

With an intimidating attitude and a body that was created from the first time tall, he was blurring out the words with indiscernible speed, throwing sometimes short dances of the eyebrows which were betraying another thoughts than the confessed ones. If the"Savior" was situated at the dark colors and themes' pole, this guy was at an angle of 180 degrees from his apartment-college. By observing the sounds produced by the graceful movements of the corners of his mouth, I could bet that he had pure Australian origins; his accent looked like an aphrodisiac for every woman. Emma's eyelids were knit to the unreal sight, she was confessing that for the first time in her life she was integrating in a hidden community full of immigrants, found in the trouble like she was: the wish of remarking itself in a bright future.

The speech was heading in the way it was conceited to, following the well-proposed standards. Like Emma could have guessed, the script was taking its course, so without a little wait, the third "questions' knight" entered the scene to expose his point of view, completely the same with the previous pattern. They started to provoke me cold shivers on the spinal line.

"Just the fact that he is chasing us, should worry us! With his armed band, he is threatening our throats from every angle and every time he desires," affirmed roughly the apparently diffuse personality of the boy with a platinum blonde hair, the single imperfection was the darker roots, but how it's said: mistakes are humanly. He was wearing neglectfully his short and fulfilled arms, glued to his body, being too shy to drop a puss; maybe just her presence was hardening the possibility of slackening. The spirits were calming down progressively, but for Emma's pure surprise, no one was forcing his intellect to discover her. Probably in their hacked minds, were boiling preconceived thoughts about who she was.

"Who is she? " asked aloud and somehow on an irritated tone the last person, a short girl with chestnut, glowing hair, private from fame because of the round glasses, a little out of vogue , anyway with a slight air of vintage style. Her voice with a sorely timbre was inversely-proportional with the exterior building, a reason which was supporting the quote:"Don't judge a book after its cover". Everyone's eyes filled with curiosity, especially the ones of the agents of the feminine beauty, because we all know that a postmark of the women's gallantry is the desire of knowing.

"She was wandering confusely on the street when she was almost assaulted by Neal," piped without a little dishonor the fact that he was proclaiming the hero of the dirty, abandoned streets of the neighborhood with still an unknown name. In conclusion, Emma was finding herself in the other corner of the world, surrounded by strangers, a landscape that everyone should to keep off carefully. On the contraire, she started to love it.

"Can you assign to know your name, sweetheart? Or are we standing on the anonymous' call?" affirmed on a relaxed tone the cadet number 1.

"Swan," she answered dry; realizing moments later that she was already omitting the truth about who Emma was.

"Cuuuute! " she exclaimed annoyingly, prolonging the middle vowel a little over the allowed limit. "I assume that's a nickname, right?" she added, sounding incisive.

I nodded approvingly, with a dark shadow of red invading the cavity of my cheeks, triggering a large smile on the face which was spotted with moles and bathes in pale traces of sun-tan.

"Ruby," she presented amicably, blinking her eye, somehow casual. "But if we go on nicknames, I want to be called Red. The motif is obvious".

The presentation was flooding slowly, gently; we were connecting through a bond in the proper meaning of the word.

"I'm Augustus, but occasionally I'm called August, the month I was born. My mother made the supreme sacrifice brought me to see the day light and then she decided unwillingly to watch me from the heaven".

Emma was profoundly moved by his last quotes. She found out that she wasn't the single one from this world with this flaw, she discovered that the relieving was hiding in the green branches of the pain, hidden centric, which in the decor was glowing, but our poisoned, hypnotized hearts were ignoring it, missing their chance to future happiness.

"My name is James, but differently from the others, I'm a little more realistic and my nickname is Charming, you know from the universal mythology," he added with a hint of reticence to open his soul in front of the strangers.

I was interested by little, last girl who was living in her won world, isolated from the information's' fluctuation.

"I'm Mary Margaret, and my nickname is constituted from the word Snow. The one who you should thank to because freed you from the possible nightmares and consequences is Graham or The Sherriff". That girl was hiding something in her aura and Emma truly wanted to find out what.

"With what occasion around here?" Ruby inquired, revealing her chatty side.

"I'm looking forward to find my accomplishment," Emma said half-smiling, paraphrasing some célèbre words.

Emma was feeling emancipated, despite the fact that a bunch of questions were standing in her road to find the charming gardens that keep the ideal in the terrestrial world.

 **Author's Note:** Stay tuned, folks! Next updated, right after I return from my holiday! Read and Review! :*


	4. Chapter 4 - Metaphor

Chapter 4 – Metaphor

"Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space."  
― Orson Scott Card, Alvin Journeyman

To be surrounded by another broken heart is a privilege to study attentively the reaction, to decode stealthy the secrets of the mentor's magic elixir who owns the life advice about the full emotional-charge, strongly affected by the juicy metamorphosis, speaking from the point of view of absolute care.

Nervously blinking with her right eye, which was unbenumbing from the daily routine which was now breaking, preparing mentally for a final deception, Emma had the somber impression that even the rays of the sun have hung another contour, a much more intense color, a happier one, more out-of-the-way from the corporeal that is snatching us in its cold claws.

Passing through the portal which was enveloped in a golden, mysterious mist, directly going forward to reality, she was still standing in the middle of the strait room, completely unventilated, decorated –chromatically talking- with complementary shades, chosen with absolutely good tastes which dominated the boringly symmetric fitted in the view. In the light filtrated by the silver blinds, affixed in a defending position like a stratum of impenetrable bricks and also in the deafening clink of the harmonious respiration, attentively choreographed, of the blood pressure expressed in the emphatic breath, Emma was finding herself in the posture of passing her limits, of exposing her whole person, now possessing a new-found optimism.

Contemplating her with a high view and somehow criticizing, Emma could say that even after a short, visual impression, she was feeling a symbiotic bond with those souls, lonely too, who began looking for the eternal happiness. In the same time, they were all delayed by the same natural error: the property of a second to seem the opposite of an infinite. But in this moment, she was hardly getting out of the new-appeared labyrinth.

"So, judging your posture and putting altogether all the clues that you've confirmed, I can say that we will be your tutors in this new adventure," Ruby said on a press tone, saturated by the power that lays in her character.

"My prayers were listened!" Emma said on a comic timbre, contoured by the clumsiness which she inherited from her biological parents who without any trace of remorse impregnated this little defect into her brain.

"I regret to spoil this feminine party, but I consider our exploring schedule starts only in two days," James affirmed, hiding a perfect organization, like Emma could have inferred.

This argument triggered a wave of expressions that were approving her words, making her to put in slight doubt their intentions.

"Before we jump to conclusions, I suggest that Emma should meet her little room," Graham put into words, seductively playing with his eyebrows.

"I'll stay here?" Emma asked, slowly revealing an euphoric surprise, but also a common fright that appears in front of any new start.

"There is no question that we'll break our new founded club," the chatty Ruby affirmed, who with a move specific for predator, was guiding Emma through the hallway, which was exceeding all the expectations –from the vintage point of view- was covered by pale colored feathers and with also pronounced aztecan motives. It looked like a time-tunnel, completely wrapped up in its own mystery with grey nuances like the old history. Heavily inhaling the weight of the deposed dust on the wooden surfaces like a hidden web, forgotten for long periods, leaving its impress on the naked material, Emma was walking across the narrow passage, included by the backward conspiracies. With an loud slam, over-annoyingly, but now developed in a synopsis of a new world, still undiscovered, she entered a chamber in which was dominating a romantic niff, probably something common, familiar, similar to a calm, marine breeze. For converting her ideology in absolute admiration, she was left to sink in the "life's wine", namely this temporary pleasure. By admiring the powerful colored nuances of the purple spectrum and spinning around in out-of-heart circles on the floor, Emma was about to retrieve herself in this corner of the world, probably guided by her own ideologies, overwhelmed by a mirage which wasn't betraying any of her defects and was just bringing into the light the love of an extreme dream. With a relaxing breeze playing with her raveled strands, she has already laid her entire body which was screaming in agony, on the silken, well-arranged bedspreads, which with restriction involved offered me a moment of rest, brutally interrupted by the questions still defined by ambiguous answers.

When she recovered her consciousness and when she inhaled the closed air of the room which was concisely described by the imagination's power by the structure: "a revolution of tastes", Emma did the involuntary move to lift herself bolt upright, realizing the inevitable quick flow of time, persistently asking her person if the midnight had already passed. The sublime tranquility was ruling, according itself with the happy zooms possessed by the wearers of discussion who were situated in the spacy living room, deprived of the presence of a coffee table, the detail converting the semi prepared dainties' foretaste into an adventure. The curiosity was too tempting, so with moves resembled with a cat's ones, she was redressing herself towards the source of the whispers; She expected to witness a party. Opening the door with perfected attention, she saw a harmonic group of friends studying with complete exertion.

With an inexpressively state of calm, she stepped only in the doorway, contemplating her fellow countrymen who with a critical air were nervously browsing the art course book's pages. Emma exposed her existence with an improper throb, and simultaneously with this minuscule mistake, the moldered wood abruptly crackled. It was a favorable, short, completely-planned-by-the-destiny second, which was enough to trigger a chain-reaction of all the looks that exited the frame of intense study.

"We have the honor to meet Sleeping Beauty!" August joked, displaying a system of amusing qualities which were becoming repetitive.

"The miracle won't last long, trust me! My whole body is crying on the inside," Emma said on a serious, growled tone, denoting a wild exhaustion.

In that marvelous scene, Emma was going to be a detail which was contravening the rules of the game. With a completely uncharacteristic agility –until the present moment- she attacked the extensible divan, letting her tiredness and general euphoria to be released through her minuscule pinholes.

"This absolutely-cluttering headache is progressively making me go mad," James told her on a naïve, unorganized-in-intensity voice, who was standing in an angle of a few degrees. In that moment, he was moving to vertical state, but his propellant moves were steeper, like his entire "centuries-old" organism had strewed atrophied rust in his joints, all the pain built on a repellent fence.

"For what do you perform such an intense work?" Emma inquired, hoping she could sweeten this new-formed trap of tension.

"The ones from the University don't give us quarters with their eyes wide shut. Tomorrow, we have an art quiz," Ruby answered, her dark circles sparkling like a purple flame, revealing the fact that in this cumulated time, the memorized information were transforming into deposits that were pushing grimly her center of concentration.

"In the dawn, when you'll be fully rested, we'll leave you a map of the city, so you can delight with our wondrous city," James affirmed who with a profound twitch in his vocal cords had a lenient look, modified only by a sentimental inflexion which was showing on his retina.

Emma nodded subtly, knowing that she will be on her own during the next sequence of day and night, so her self-authority would be immeasurable.

"I propose to put aside the boring theory for getting to know better our new mate, present here and now," Ruby spoke who with her small and delicate arms took the ribbons of the conversation, digging the vulnerable place –or the past- considering that some life's sublime theories were missing well and truly.

"There are a lot to be said, and words can't comprehend everything," Emma said, carefully masking all her roots. She placed her slightly-exhausted head in her hands and unwillingly started to quarrel the sour-influenced memories she collected throughout her dark years she desperately wanted to erase permanently.

She rationally started with the painful beginning, slowly passed the excruciating period of her unusually-negative childhood, revealing a little amount of details. She told them about Neal's supreme betrayal, bitterness overwhelming her body once more, tears gracefully crossing the silky-textured deck of her smooth cheeks. Emma has always prided herself on being ultimately logical and composed, but the past always had the supernatural ability to spoil her game. She looked around the minuscule room with pleading and reddened eyes even if she usually hated to be comforted by someone from the exterior. All this years, the utter loneliness strengthened her developing character and taught her to sharpen all her defending weapons for the upcoming confrontations. The world has become beyond mean and she found herself begging for forgiveness and for quarter, but this unique moment is the only remedy she could have asked for after so many other years of torment.

Her companions were still frozen solid in their place and the entire room was engulfed by a fatal wave of muteness, Emma's ears were painfully crossed by a wave of sadness and wished to retract all her confessions and start this upcoming escape with a broad and goofy grin plastered on her face. She needs to reinforce the happiness back in its track and started a new conversation which debuted with a meaningless question that was struck in the same dumbfounded silence.

"When did you meet? I assume you aren't relatives," Emma asked in heartbeat, her voice just above the volume of a fragile whisper. Her chest is completely compressed, her heart rate accelerated profoundly, her palms nervously sweat, but she ignores all these small details stubbornly, wholeheartedly waiting for an honest response that would completely eradicate the tension her words have inflicted.

"Just by chance, the same way we met you," Ruby replied after only a few tormented seconds. She was constantly trying to impregnate a smile on her face, even if it was well-hidden behind a mask of calm and collected demeanor.

"We were all young students looking for a break. Graham owns this nice place and progressively we gathered around and founded an artistic club. Hope you're talented at something, too," Graham chirped on a mocking tone and intently approached Emma. In an obvious and polite manner, he was trying to establish a new bond.

"Everyone says I might have a thing for music, but I have never tried to pursue such a career," Emma answered attentively, her whole body relaxing in a single minute. She experienced a sudden wave of frigid chills when she witnessed the approval nod Graham had offered.

"Still wanting to take a look around the city?" James asked on a serious tone, his body was compressed in a minuscule leather chair; the available space reserved only for him was easily conquered by the infinite heap of books.

"Sure, I can't wait to see what it has to offer. Any special suggestions you'd like to give me?" Emma wondered excitedly receiving in response a loud round of immature giggles that were proving that this respective summer would be a true oasis of relaxation, ready to be discovered entirely, with no limits in their irregular trajectory.

"You just need to follow your instinct. That's how you will find the absolute wonders," Ruby suggested, red color rising in her cheeks instantly. Her unique attitude contoured by pure craziness was the best boosting signal she offered, the obnoxious tinge fading in the atmosphere of positivity.

Emma's mind was slowly conquered by adrenaline and desire of knowing, she was truly motivated to discover the sealed feature of this terrestrial heaven. Little did she know that the next day during her hazy wandering, a certain impuissant male figure would turn all her world upside down just like a rotten enigma.

 **Author's Note** : Oh, the cliffhanger! =) Killian is coming next chapter on screen. So, my train leaves in a few hours, but I couldn't have left you without giving first a new update.

And to clarify everyone, this is NOT only a pointless philosophical diary that spins around Emma. The action is starting to increase now that Killian will come in the plot. This will truly be an adventure and romance story, the philosophical part was just for the beginning and now it's over. We just entered the zone of pure tension.

Read and Review? :*


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